Tag: Philadelphia

Editor’s Post: “New York City”

Ayesha F. Hamid is a poet and creative nonfiction writer published in Blue Bonnet Review, Philly Flash Inferno, Sheepshead Review, and Rathalla Review. Her full-length memoir The Borderland Between Worlds is available through Auctus Publishers at Barnes and Nobles and Amazon.  Ayesha also has a full-length poetry collection called Waiting for Resurrection. She is a Poetry Editor at Ran Off With the Star Bassoon and an Assistant Poetry Editor for The Night Heron Barks. She is the Editor-in-Chief at The City Key.

Ayesha holds a Bachelor of Arts in French and A Bachelors of Science in Sociology from Chestnut Hill College, M.F.A. in Creative Writing and an M.A. in Publishing from Rosemont College. She also holds an M.A. in Sociology from Brooklyn College.  Aside from writing, Ayesha also loves film, travel, and photography. You can find Ayesha on twitter @ahamidwriter 

Ayesha is a lover of cities, big and small.

Editor’s Post: “The City’s Wild Promise.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that “the city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time. In its first wild promise of all the mystery and beauty in the world.” Fitzgerald describes something that I’ve always felt when arriving in a city; the word that comes closest to explaining this feeling is hope.

Continue reading Editor’s Post: “The City’s Wild Promise.”

“What It’s About” by Spencer Shaak

I look for Charlie every time
on Sundays at the Bayou Bar.
He’s always on the same stool,
slugging down two-dollar Miller Lights.

We watch Eagles football together
with the rest of the Bayou.
We talk about what we like
about Philadelphia – Wissahickon Park,
fallen-fire crusted leaves,
hustle and bustle, food vendors,
barbecue steam,
bicyclists swinging in and out,
like bright crochet hooks
weaving their own section
of Philadelphia’s quilt.

Charlie tells me he’s lived in the city
for all eighty years of his life.
I say – Me? Barely one.
But right now, it’s not about then,
it’s about now – Main Street, Manayunk,
bikes in and then out, hickory smoke blocks away,
Bayou, two-dollar Miller Lights,

Charlie sitting on the stool to my right.
It’s about words never said:
You’re like a grandfather to me.

Capture

Spencer Shaak is an MFA graduate in creative writing from Rosemont College in Rosemont, Pennsylvania.

Please note: Poetry is compressed to fit smart phone screens. If you are reading this poem on a phone screen, please turn your screen sideways to make sure that you are seeing correct line breaks for this poem.